


aftermath

by Anicaruscomplex



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, more mature yuuri, post breakup, run up to the olympics, they're not sixteen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 03:58:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9054475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anicaruscomplex/pseuds/Anicaruscomplex
Summary: Six months after their messy breakup, Yuuri is preparing for the Winter Olympics and trying to move on with his life.
Life might have other plans.





	1. Chapter 1

He pushes the earbuds further into his ears, thumbing the volume control until his music drowns out the song currently playing in the stadium. He resolutely closes his eyes and looks away, back turned on the rink.

On the ice, Viktor is performing his free skate routine. Yuuri’s seen clips of it here and there, videos on blogs he couldn’t click off fast enough or magazine articles featuring his return to the skating world, but this is the first time this year he has been close enough to see it for himself. That he isn’t even watching speaks volumes; turned to face the audience rather than the ice, he can see the others watching intently, can see them shouting encouragement and clapping wildly as he lands his jumps. It’s not really surprising. Viktor has always been perfect.

He can feel the vibrations as Viktor’s routine finishes and the arena erupts into thunderous applause, though he resolutely does not look back. He is up next and cannot afford to let it throw him off. Unexpected, amazingly, he leads the finals after the short programme, squeaking in an entire point higher than Viktor and the rest of the trailing competition, but he can’t really find it in himself to care. His only hope of holding onto that tenuous lead was if Viktor had stumbled and he’d gone through clean, but it was clear that Viktor had given the faultless performance expected of him. His coach has already laid out the cold, hard facts for him, and Yuuri knows it will be impossible for him to score the points he needs to win.

Lips set into a grim line, he takes his own place on the ice, attempting to get into character. He lets everything else fade to white noise until only the routine is left, until nothing matters but the performance. As the music starts, he smiles, letting other worries melt away. No matter what else has happened, he still has this.

 

* * *

 

 In the end he takes third after a disappointing stumble on one of his quads. It isn’t bad, not given the number of others here, but it isn’t what he’d hoped for and the disappointment sits heavy in his stomach. Viktor, once again, is the world champion, and Yuuri stands awkwardly on the podium next to him as the medals are given out. Neither of them look at the other and Yuuri is relieved when the event ends without a word being said between them. He avoids the dinner dance on the last night and takes an earlier flight instead, returning to his new home rink in Tokyo.

Third is more than enough to secure his place in the Olympics. With less than a year to go, he has a lot to practice if he hopes to top the rankings there.

He curls into the pillow of his seat and debates putting a film on. Around him, the plane is dark and most of his fellow passengers are sleeping, but he’s still not completely wound down after worlds and sleep seems a hard thing to fathom. He pulls out his phone instead and plugs his headphones in, flicking through his videos until he finds the one his choreographer sent him the other day.

His choreographer. He’s hit the big leagues now, with a team of staff to support him, not just a coach shared with a number of other hopefuls. His success at the Grand Prix finals, his new-found fame as the free skate record holder (still, he still holds it, at least Viktor has not managed to take this back from him yet) and recent media attention has brought sponsors flooding in, giving him the funding to afford the support.

Viktor doesn’t need it, he tries not to think.

 

* * *

 

He stretches against the side of the rink, working out the tightness in his thighs. His coach is chatting on the phone nearby and he smiles to hear the rapid Japanese that falls from her lips as she plans a trip to the beach with friends.

After the hideous split with Viktor, he’d surprised his friends by announcing his intentions to move back to Japan under the tutelage of Kiko Nakamura, one of Japan’s greatest skaters and a multi-time world champion from nearly a decade ago. He supposes having a female coach isn’t too common but he’s found that it suits him, her sunny, vibrant positivity an effective counter to his bouts of depression. He’d been a mess when they’d first started but she’d patiently navigated him through the ups and downs, ensuring he came out a better skater on the other side. She’s shown him how to enjoy skating in a way that nobody, even Viktor, managed to.

Compared with the intense, personal coaching style Viktor had preferred, it is odd to go back to being trained by someone he barely knows, but he’s grateful for the level of separation and professionalism that having a salaried coach brings. After having his heart so utterly broken, he needs some space in his private life to piece himself back together and rediscover who he is. The past year, good and bad, has changed him so much that he barely even recognises himself.

 

* * *

 

 Despite the lack of competitions, he trains hard over the summer, only giving himself a few days off to visit his parents and another half a week to show a delighted Pichit around Tokyo. When he’s not on the ice he’s in the ballet studio or the gym, refining the muscle he’d built up over the previous year. He’s still shorter and bulkier than most of the other skaters, but it gives him the strength and stamina to attempt routines they wouldn’t manage. His choreographer knows how to construct routines that make the most of what he’s got to offer and he’s still amazed at the base difficulty attached to his latest long program. Once he unveils it in the first of the Grand Prix qualifiers, he reckons he stands a good chance of beating his own record.

With the run up to the Winter Olympics starting, he is even more in demand for photoshoots and endorsements, one of Japan’s best hopes for a medal. He has his hair professionally cut and styled to emphasise the new sharpness of his jawline, and his manager convinces him to swap his glasses for contacts. Even if he couldn’t see the changes for himself in a mirror, he can see the changes reflected in the way people react to him when he’s out in public, is surprised when girls blatantly flirt with him despite not knowing who he is.

He’s not surprised they don’t recognise him, even with the recent glut of advertising he’s been doing; he hardly recognises himself in the glossy spreads either, face and body photoshopped to perfection.

He tries to expand his life off the rink as well. He makes friends with Misa, the girl renting the apartment next to his, and finds himself quickly inserted into her group of friends. She’s a dance instructor at the local academy and there are enough similarities to bond over. He’s even going to a weekly pole dancing class with her when he’s not travelling, though she teases him for so easily putting her to shame.

Thoughts of Viktor still ache, but six months removed he can admit to himself that the burn out was always inevitable. They’d clung to each other in starved desperation, both drowning under their own problems, and his world had narrowed until he’d seen nothing but Viktor. When that had started to strain under the pressure of trying to do too much at once, he’d had nothing else to fall back on, no way to give himself a little space. It’s hard not to blame himself for everything falling apart, but he’s starting to see that he wasn’t the only one at fault.

His life, he thinks, is more positively balanced now. He feels better about himself and is more able to cope when things go wrong. On his coach’s advice he has even sought out a therapist. He’d been embarrassed in the beginning to talk about issues that didn’t even seem that big, but the talking has been helpful in getting everything sorted in his own head and starting to sort out his numerous insecurities. Not that everything is suddenly perfect; he still has low points and dark weeks where even getting out of bed is a struggle. It had been easy to play the damsel with others always there to fight his demons, but he must learn to conquer them on his own.

So far, he’s doing ok. Maybe he’s a little more obsessed with his training than he should be, but his rediscovered love of skating has lit a fire in him. He’s only got a handful of years left before he is aged out of international competitions and he intends to make every one of them count.


	2. Chapter 2

He hugs his knees to his chest as he watches the clock tick closer to the hour, oddly nervous to see this year’s Grand Prix assignments. He’d spent most of the day distracting himself from it, filling his hours with training, but it doesn’t make it any easier to wait now.

His phone buzzes again; someone else wishing him luck he imagines, though he doesn’t check. He needs some space to sort out his own feelings about whatever he ends up with, rather than having to put on an act for someone else. He knows the world is waiting to see if he and Viktor will be competing before the finals but he isn’t sure how he’ll feel about that. It’s inevitable that they’ll have to see each other again one day, so maybe he’s best off getting it out of the way when it doesn’t matter as much. If it’s going to throw him off, he’d rather it be at one of the minor events when he can still qualify even with a few mistakes.

As the time finally arrives, he breathes out and centres himself, clicking through the links until he’s faced with the schedule. His first event – Skate America – has a surprising number of names he doesn’t really recognise, as well as Otabek and Seung-gil. His initial flush of delight that he’s been assigned to the local NHK Trophy fades as he reads down the competitor list. With Viktor, Yuri, Christophe and Michele down to skate it, placing well there will be almost as difficult as the finals.  

The realisation that he and Viktor will be facing off against each other has affected him less than he feared it would. Indeed, he’s almost excited. He’s worked so hard through the off-season to improve enough to have a shot at winning and he’s desperate to find out if it’s been enough. It’s the first year he’s been actively looking forward to competing.

Satisfied that he’s more or less content with the roster, he flips his phone over and scrolls through the notifications he’s been ignoring.  A few of them had set up a WhatsApp group chat after the finals last year and it is currently going crazy, new messages arriving faster than Yuuri can read them. He ignores it for now as he responds to the well-wishes from family and other friends. He’s disappointed that Phicit didn’t qualify this year but the Thai skater doesn’t seem disappointed, instead promising Yuuri he’ll come and support him at the NHK Trophy.

He takes a screenshot of the assignments and posts it to his own Instagram, adding a quick comment to it about how excited he is for this season to start. His coach has texted him to let him know they’ll work through the implications tomorrow and possibilities for adjusting his routine to take into account the far different fields he’s facing, so there’s not much left to do tonight. He texts Misa and asks if she wants to come over for tea, wanting someone to talk through this nervous energy with.

 

* * *

 

 

Misa is over within ten minutes, dressed in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt that still don’t hide how pretty she is. Yuuri’s aware that she thinks he’s gay and hasn’t corrected her, not wanting to put any strain on their easy relationship. It’s a safety blanket for him too; he’s aware that he’s attracted to her but isn’t really in any place to act on it now, and he values her friendship too much to use her as a stopgap to fill the lonely spaces.

She’s brought a couple of bottle of beer with her and holds them up triumphantly. “I know it’s a little early to celebrate, but I know how nervous you’ve been. Thought we should mark the occasion.”

Yuuri smiles and pads down to the kitchen to fetch classes and they fall onto his couch together, her feet across his lap and their shoulders snugly pressed together. He puts a film on but keeps the volume low and they mostly just talk over the top of it. She tells him about the disastrous lesson she’d taught earlier and the ongoing saga with one of the children’s parents, and acts out a parody of the supposedly secret affair going on between two of her colleagues.

The domesticity of the moment bring tears unexpectedly to his eyes. This is what he should have had with Viktor.

Next to him, Misa shifts, noticing something is wrong when he goes quiet and stares at his feet. He’s talked about his relationship enough that she knows exactly how he feels, though he still can’t look at the soft expression of sympathy on her face.

“Hey, Yuuri, it’s ok.” She butts her shoulder into his and makes him turn to look at her. “Is it the assignments?”

He runs a hand through his hair and scrubs at his face. “No. Yes. I don’t know.” He wishes he was wearing glasses instead of contacts, to better hide behind. “I thought I was fine. It was a little shocking, seeing his name next to mine again, but mostly I was just excited. I don’t know why it’s hit so hard now.”

Misa purses her lips and shifts until her head is resting on his shoulder, nestled in the gap under the chin. “You loved him,” she states bluntly. “It’s been less than a year. Don’t beat yourself up about still being upset about it.” She’s told him similar things a number of times, though it’s still hard not to feel like a failure about the whole thing. “But you’re a stronger person than you were a year ago. You can be upset without letting it control you.”

And that’s where the problem lies. Missing Viktor is not the problem here, even if it makes him feel like shit sometimes. What he’s terrified of is that thoughts of Viktor, especially once he is sharing the rink with him once more, will push him off balance and make him screw up the routines he’s so painstakingly practiced to perfection.

His attempts to blink back the tears are failing and it’s not long until he’s sobbing, curled round Misa, who valiantly doesn’t complain as he dampens her shirt and instead rubs comforting circles into his back. “You know we’re here if you need us, Yuuri. You’re not in this alone.”

He sniffles into the tissue she passes him and tries to clean his face up a little, caught between being embarrassed about crying and feeling better for not bottling it up. “You don’t know how much I appreciate it,” he tells her, sincere, and smiles even though his eyes are red and his face is unattractively blotchy. “I don’t deserve you. You’re a saint.”

“I know,” she sing-songs, poking her tongue out and making him huff out a laugh. “But I mean what I say. You can do this. Even if you do fuck up, I promise I’ll still like you.”

“That’s comforting,” he snorts, though he doesn’t take the words to heart. “Just wait. I’ll show you what I’m capable of.”

 

* * *

 

 

He wins gold at Skate America by an easy margin, placing first in both programmes despite dropping the difficult of his free skate and only including three quads. He’s on a carefully designed plan that should see him peak at the Olympics, so his coach wants him to conserve effort wherever possible.

 It feels a little like cheating, winning the gold medal without even showing what he is capable of, but nobody else seems sore about it. Otabek places second and a seventeen year old American takes the bronze. He poses for pictures with fans and fellow skaters alike, goes out with them for drinks afterwards and remembers to add them to Facebook and promise to keep in touch.

Later on, alone in his hotel room, he is unable to stop marvelling at the gold medal that sits heavy on his chest. Although he’d taken first place at the Japanese nationals, he’d slipped to second at the Four Continents, making this the first gold medal he’s ever won at the highest stage of international competition. He thinks of Viktor’s promise and the gold ring he still has, tucked away in the bottom of his skate bag where it hopefully won’t be found.

This gold medal is not the fulfilment of a promise or a symbol of Yuuri’s self worth, and he feels all the freer for winning it on his own terms. It represents nothing but the culmination of his training and hard work, and he takes peace in knowing that he’s earned it.

If he ends up wearing it to bed that night, well, there’s nobody around to see.

 

* * *

 

To his coach’s irritation, he lingers in America for a few days after the competition is over, returning to Detroit to visit old rinkmates and see some of his old professors. He laughs openly with them and regales the newbies with old tales of Celestino, performing parts of his routine to their admiring applause and spends a few afternoons just skating freely on the rink that had been his home for five years.

There’s plenty he regrets about his time in America, but he knows he is a different person now and there’s no use beating himself up for past mistakes.  

Later on, when he’s scrolling through the Instagram pictures he’s posted, he’s surprised to see himself genuinely smiling in all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end of the setup of what Yuuri's like now! Next chapter will finally have interaction between Viktor and Yuuri.


End file.
